


The Shadow of the Moon Won't Do

by brilligspoons



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-11
Updated: 2011-09-11
Packaged: 2017-10-23 15:55:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/252152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brilligspoons/pseuds/brilligspoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a beach in Cuba, Charles says something Erik isn’t expecting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shadow of the Moon Won't Do

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **bones_2_be** for the **erik_charles Summer Fic Exchange** on LJ. Prompt was: Erik realizes what he did with the coin while Charles was holding Shaw and tries to make amends. AU ending or from a distance, post-divorce are both fine. Wants to see: fingering, angst (tug my heartstrings), hurt/comfort, tender/happy moments, Alex as a secondary character. Does not want to see: onscreen het, abuse, evil!Erik
> 
> Thanks to **pocky_slash** for looking this over and being my angst-gauge! Song title is taken from The Jezabels’ “Hurt Me.”

There’s a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, as they’re all standing on the beach in Cuba, when Erik knows, _feels_ it in his bones, that Charles is about to say something monumentally stupid. There are a hundred missiles hanging in the air above them, and Erik halts them, twists them until they’re facing the direction from which they came, and then holds them in place. With the helmet on his head, he knows Charles can’t read his mind, can’t control him, can’t do anything at all, really. He silently dares Charles to say what he knows is coming, the arrogance he knows is bubbling underneath Charles’ skin, it’s there, Charles is opening his mouth to say something - but Charles closes his mouth just as quickly as he opened it. He stares at Erik so intently that Erik swears the prickly feeling in his neck is Charles trying desperately to weasel his way back inside his mind.

Then Charles sighs, squeezes his hands into fists and rubs roughly at his eyes with them. A moment - two - three - and then Charles is looking not at Erik but at some unknown point behind him.

“Erik,” Charles says, voice barely audible over the roar of the ocean, the wind, and the rushing blood pounding in Erik’s head. “I’m so, so tired, Erik. Just - tell me.”

The defeat in his tone stabs at Erik’s heart, and for a second he forgets how to breathe. “Tell you?” he asks. “Tell you what?”

“Tell me what you want,” says Charles.

 _I’m so, so tired, Erik._

A heartbeat, then - “You,” it’s almost automatic, Erik can’t stop himself from saying it, “you. I want you by my side, like it’s supposed to be. You know that, yes? You know that they won’t accept us, that we need to - I can’t _do this_ without you, Charles.”

Charles is silent. Erik turns his attention back to the bombs floating before him.

“Charles,” he says, “say something.”

Charles closes the distance between them and places a hand on Erik’s shoulder, remaining quiet all the while. It throws Erik off completely - Charles Xavier is known for his temerity and arrogance, his never-ending optimism and hope for the future, his determination. There is nothing _still_ about Charles, never has been as far as Erik can tell, and yet -

 _I’m so, so tired, Erik._

Erik forces himself to wait.

“I can’t,” Charles says ( _finally, finally_ ). “I can’t do this. I was just inside a man’s head as he died, and I am _tired_. So - please, Erik. Please.”

Erik can’t tell what Charles is asking of him, doesn’t dare turn his gaze away from the bombs and the sea and the ships that fired on them, and - _oh._ What Charles said registers with Erik - _I was just inside a man’s head as he died_ \- and suddenly a wave of exhaustion and regret crashes over him, chokes and threatens to drown him. He sucks in a big, gasping breath, sways slightly to the side. Charles’ hand on him is searing hot, even through the jumpsuit material, and even with the helmet on, Erik can hear Charles thinking _please please please please please please..._

It’s too much. Erik twists each of the bombs until they’re unrecognizable scraps of metal and wiring, lets them fall out of his hold and into the ocean. He turns to meet Charles’ eyes, but he finds Charles staring at the sand beneath their feet; he’s breathing heavily, isn’t even blinking, though the hot glare of the sun must be burning his eyes by now. The others - Erik looks around, they haven’t moved at all, they’re staring at him and Charles, a mixture of panic and fear and confusion painted across their faces. Even Angel and Shaw’s people seem like they’re waiting for someone to do, well, _something_.

“It’s done,” he whispers, trying to snap Charles out of his daze. “I promise, it’s done.” He lurches forward, takes hold of the back of Charles’ neck and forces him to look up. Charles’ eyes are glassy, and there are wet tracks down his cheeks, and it’s all Erik can do not to lean in closer and lick the tears away.

(Later - much, much later - Erik will wake one morning with Charles (warm and boneless in sleep) in his arms. The soft of dawn will be cresting on the horizon, lazily filling their bedroom with pale light, and he will gather Charles closer to his chest and press hushed, gentle kisses into Charles’ hair. He will murmur, “I don’t know if I meant it then or in any of the moments after, but I mean it now, I mean it now, I promise.”

Three thousand seven hundred forty two days Erik will say this to Charles’ sleeping form, and if Charles knows or has heard him say it, he will never let on. Erik will follow it up with a silent promise to himself that tomorrow, maybe, he won’t _have_ to say it again, but breaking that is as second nature as breathing.)

Azazel brings them all back to the mansion in Westchester, and then he and Riptide disappear without a word. Erik has no idea what their plans are, or where they will end up (though he suspects their next stop will be a CIA cell to retrieve Emma Frost) - and to be perfectly honest, he doesn’t care. Raven herds the others away from the main entrance and up the stairs, muttering something about bandages and seeing if Sean’s arm is broken or not. Angel trails awkwardly after them, hesitation written in her every movement until Alex stops a few steps up and holds his hand out to her.

“Come on,” he says. “We should see about your wings.”

She looks at his outstretched hand, takes it, and then a moment later, Erik and Charles are alone.

Charles sighs deeply and rubs at his face. “What’s going to happen to us?” he asks. His words are swallowed by the house acoustics, and Erik barely hears him. The helmet sits heavy on Erik’s head, but he makes no move to take it off.

“I don’t know, Charles,” he replies. “I thought - I thought, for a moment, that I knew, but -”

“I know you and I don’t see eye to eye on the future, Erik,” Charles says. “I know that you want to make a point, that you want us to be able to live openly. I _know_ what you said to Raven, and I just. I just don’t know how to be - _that_. And I fear you believe there can be no middle ground.”

“I meant what I said,” Erik blurts out. “On the beach. I meant that, that I want you - _need_ you to be with me. I’ll do whatever it takes, I can -” He stops, heart pounding in his ears. His hands move almost of their own accord, take hold of the helmet, and then it’s falling to the floor and landing with a soft _thump_ on the thick carpet. “I said,” he continues, “that I don’t trust you, Charles.”

Charles lets a small, distressed noise escape his lips.

“I said that,” Erik continues, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t start.” He takes a step toward Charles. “Your head,” he says. “How is it?”

Charles looks at him, wariness and hope warring across his face. “It hurts still,” he replies. Slowly, his lips quirk upward into a genuine smile (tiny, but there). He holds out his hand to Erik. “It’s done?” he asks.

Erik nods and takes his hand, squeezes it gently. “I said it was, didn’t I?” says Erik. He tugs on Charles’ arm and pulls him into a tight embrace. “We’ll figure it out, shall we?”

“Yes,” Charles says.


End file.
